Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Starscream looks at the red Autobot for a little bit longer than he intended to. His optics linger on his chassis, bright red, full of colour, heaving slightly. Movement that clearly comes from the rough in- and exvents of the mech. 

Cliffjumper doesn’t say a word. They both already taunted each other enough. Their optics lock a few times. Red meets blue, and for a split fraction of a klik, Starscream sees something beyond an enemy. He reminds himself that he is alive. 

His claws flex. He should be plunging them through that bright red plating, straight through his sparkchamber. He should make it easy for the Autobot, because every other mech he can stumble upon in this hellhole ship would not spare him or give that same luxury. 

Only a few drones know. Barely conscious duplicates of one and the same, and Starscream is aware that they would forget about this in the matter of a cycle. Nobody would remember that an Autobot had entered the base. Starscream ignored the idea of Soundwave’s surveillance for now. If Soundwave had found out, then he would be here. 

“What’cha looking at, ‘con?” 

Seems like Starscream had forgotten to stop staring. He averts his gaze to the floor and continues overthinking. 

Starscream feels his claws twitch again. He doesn’t know what to do. 

How long does he have left until Megatron comes back from his vacation to look for warriors that don’t exist? How long does he have until his makeshift peace is disrupted again? How long, until everything comes crumbling down again and again and again and again andagainandagain-? 

For the past few years, Starscream had built himself up again shakily. His leg struts ache from holding himself in a position that is temporary, until the real leader comes back. His wings feel heavy on his back, but it’s the lightest he’s felt in millions of years. Silver servos are already dented and scratched. Megatron didn’t have scratches on his hands. A real king didn’t have to do the work on his own- his servants would do it for him. 

Starscream wasn’t a king then. 

Starscream isn’t a king now. 

In the optics of the Nemesis, he is a placeholder of the glory that is to come. In the optics of the enemy, he is a white flag that is torn down when war continues. In his own processor, Starscream is lost. 

Starscream had lost. 

Starscream still loses. 

Starscream will lose again. 

The wings on his back sag slightly. He looks at the Autobot again. Starscream hadn’t graced him with an answer earlier, maybe he’s mad about that. 

His thoughts drift over to the amount of work he still has to do. Mountains of datapads, routine checks, drills and more. They don’t work without Starscream, and Starscream will do it all to ensure they work. 

“Don’t you know what to do with an enemy without your master?” 

That’s true. If Megatron had been here, this mech wouldn’t have survived. He’d be offline on the floor somewhere, and Starscream would have to move on and do his work anyway. Like any other cycle. 

His master. Is he really that dependent on Megatron? Do the Autobots think that Megatron is Starscream’s owner? Or maybe he looks more like a pet instead? Starscream isn’t sure if he’s not actually a slave to the warlord. 

The designation Starscream doesn’t fall without Megatron being mentioned first. Starscream is an extension of Megatron. He doesn’t exist without his master, but the master can exist without the extension. Starscream isn’t his own mech. Starscream doesn’t exist. 

Starscream belongs. 

“Transport him. To my habsuite.” 

Cliffjumper makes a slight noise, but the drones move him nonetheless. He stares at the spot where the captive was bound earlier. 

Starscream follows, entering his own habsuite as well. Today, it wouldn’t be empty, just like it used to be once before. It doesn't comfort Starscream, and maybe he feels pressured. But these optics are blue, and not red. 

This mech had blue optics. 

This mech wasn’t that big. 

This mech was red. 

Starscream’s claw leaves a mark on the frame of the door. It’s jagged and crooked. His servo must’ve been trembling, as usual. Knockout can’t seem to fix that stupid tremor. 

The mark on the frame of the door glistens gently. It is joined by dozens of other marks from the past, one lost in the count of many. Starscream feels the doorframe. 

Under the touch of his digit, the little cuts and dents seem endless. 

How many times had he stood in this frame like this, scared hesitating? 

Chapter Text

Cliffjumper takes in the sight of the habsuite slowly. He expected more from a room that belongs to the Second in Command of the Decepticons, especially a mech like Starscream. Decorations, perhaps pictures, banal things, much like the attitude of the mech himself.

To his surprise, it’s bleak. There’s a berth, which looks barely used, a table stacked with datapads empty cubes and hologram projectors. A waste bin full of bandages, discarded metal and else.

Other than that, there are not a lot of things in the suite. Almost as if it’s not lived in at all. 

There’s only one picture frame, in a corner that’s barely visible. Inside of it, if he zooms his optics a bit, he can see two mechs. They look like Starscream, but bigger. Bulkier, definitely not seekers built for agility like the Second. They are blue and purple, and Cliffjumper thinks that with Starscream’s red accents, they kind of make a gradient. But, he must’ve been the one to take the picture, since he wasn’t in it.

The mechs are smiling. The blue one looks gentle, maybe kind. The purple one has a mischievous look, much like Starscream. Cliffjumper wonders if they are sparked brothers. But, he’s never seen them on the battlefield. In the picture, Decepticon insignias are missing. Before the war, then. 

If they aren’t Decepticons, or neutral… 

Cliffjumper closes his optics. 

He doesn’t want to feel sympathy towards an enemy, especially not the Second in Command of the faction they had shed their morality fighting against. 

He looks at the picture again. It looks like it was taken by shaky servos, slightly blurred in places. 

Of course it must be sad to lose friends. Cliffjumper knows of that feeling very well. But, the war has taken many things. He is happy that he has what’s left. 

Pedesteps interrupt his thoughts. He sees the thin frame of the seeker stand in the door frame. Hesitation. 

Cliffjumper thinks, for barely a moment, that Starscream looks scared of the room, and not of him. 

The red optics drift to the picture frame, made of thin metal and glass. His sight lingers there, and he lets go of the door frame. The steps he takes seem a little cautious, but he’s inside nonetheless. Instead of the berth, Starscream sits on the chair near the table, looking at Cliffjumper directly. The Autobot grimaces, looking right back. Just like before, they are locked in somewhat of a position where they say nothing. 

Starscream’s digits tangle. They scrape a bit at the plating on his leg struts, digging into seams and clinging as if he was scared that the plating was going to fall off. Some cables and wires thrum. Some ache. 

“You should recharge.” 

“Inside of an enemy base? You must think I’m stupid-“ 

“I will not kill you.” 

The usually shrill and scratchy voice of Starscream sounds different. If Cliffjumper guessed, he’d say it sounds less strained. Maybe a bit smoother. Quiet? 

“And I’m supposed to believe you?” 

Cliffjumper can’t trust those words.

Starscream doesn’t answer. He looks at the red mech as if trying to figure something out. 

His optics, red and deep like wine, seem shrouded over. Cloudy. Cliffjumper recognises that look from Ratchet, every time he looks at some earthen technology he can’t seem to find the logic behind. Something between frustration and hopelessness. 

“You don’t have to. I don’t care if you do.”

Starscream doesn’t need Cliffjumper to believe him. He will not kill the Autobot now, that much he’s sure of. He’d wait for his master to come back to give him an order and present him as a gift or maybe to ask for mercy, because everything he does is wrong. 

The door would be locked. He’d use an encryption on the lock that Soundwave wouldn’t bother to figure out. Besides, nobody enters this habsuite, not even Starscream. He doesn’t recharge here anyway. He usually gets his recharge in the lab, or sometimes in the hangar. The dust in the room proves that much at least. Starscream briefly glances at the blanket. He wonders if it still has the scent of Skywarp on it. A little spicy, but usually clean and soapy. Thundercracker always smelled like polish and oil baths. Polish and oil baths don’t smell like Thundercracker. Soap doesn’t smell like Skywarp. 

“Do whatever you want. Recharge will come sooner or later, even in the form of stasis if you resist it for too long.” 

Nobody will know that there’s an Autobot in that room. Maybe, Starscream would forget too. Who knows. 

Chapter Text

Starscream continues working as if nothing happened. Work continues following Starscream. Datapads find their way to his servo without him even reaching or asking, but he doesn’t find the time to complain. The other fliers and drones wait patiently for him to start the drills, because those are also his work. The bridge is under Soundwave’s command, and those orders need to be approved by him too. The Energon Deposit needs to be looked over by him after that, but that requires him to make a list of it as well. He needs to check the inventory, also. The laboratory is asking for his attention, but is secondary.

Starscream doesn’t find even a single free klick in between all of the tasks on his schedule. The red Autobot completely slips his processor, but that isn’t that important anyway. He will survive a day without Energon. Starscream has survived that and much worse, so it’s fine. Even if he broke free of his restraints, he knows better than to try and leave, and in the worst case alert Starscream. Worse, maybe other Decepticons. Not a good idea. Idly, Starscream closes his optics. He can hear another one behind him coming up. 

“Commander, we need your approval for-“ 

“Commander Starscream, for the Energon..” 

“Starscream, Sir, the medbay is requesti-“ 

“Sir?” 

“Starscream?” 

“Commander?” 

Starscream doesn’t have the motivation to get mad at anything. Instead, he nods. Signs. Approves, looks over, checks and balances. When was the last time he had recharged ? 

Every single ping on his hud is read through carefully and replied to. Every comm is answered. 

In the medbay, Starscream gives Knockout a greeting before checking the supplies. Breakdown is somewhere in there too, working on something through the instruction of the medic. Starscream pays it no mind. Digits nimbly comb through logs of used equipment and what’s slowly in need of restock. The Energon purifier would need a good amount of work. Some machines are getting rusty. The berths are dented and hard to lie on. 

A lot is still the damage left from when Megatron had been here. Starscream doesn’t gloat. Even if the Decepticons are healthier and there are less casualties, less injuries and less risk, they will always ask for their leader back. Starscream can only try to work fast enough to repair the damage as more is being caused and pick up the mess from behind.

“You immediately need a buff and a round of polish, Commander. Sit down, let us do our work.” 

Starscream debates telling the truth. That these scratches, dents and blemishes would just reappear immediately. Or that he doesn’t even have the time to be sitting here and getting polished. Instead, he looks the medic in his optics. Knockout’s red looks different from his own. Starscream wonders what makes that difference. 

“Are you calling me ugly, Knockout?” 

“Commander! By no means! But you need to keep up your maintenance and beauty-recharge!” 

It is hard for a seeker to do their maintenance on their own, is what he wants to reply. I don’t even have the time to recharge, almost slips past his derma. I don’t remember the last time I even lied down, is what gets caught in his voice box. Instead, he just agrees.

“Very well. Do your work then, doctor .” 

Knockout gives him a smile, calling Breakdown over. Starscream’s wings do their best to stay upright as he sits on the berth. He needs a break. 

Not all of the marks on his frame are removed by the time that Starscream has to get up and move on to finish his work. Knockout complains briefly, but Starscream brushes him off. 

“Unless you want to go through those datapads, the wiser decision is to let me leave.” 

“I can’t believe I’m wasting your time here! My, you should get back, Commander!” 

Comedian. 

Breakdown huffs a laugh, and Starscream leaves, wing joints less tight. The scratches on his hands are still there, but they’re lighter. Starscream feels like he’s trying to hide his inadequacy. 

An earthen day passes, slowly. Night crawls in. 

Through the window, gentle light streams inside. The lab is bathed in a silent glow. Starscream looks at the moon. 

The light reflects in his optics, almost mixing in blue and red. A slight blue on his plating. It’s not warm, unlike the sun. It’s not bright and makes him feel comfortable. Knockout had told him once that he thought Starscream looks like the moon. Smaller than the sun, silver and glowing slightly. The moon came with the cold night. A lonely feeling. The sun gives, and the moon takes. 

Starscream doesn’t like the moon. 

It’s beautiful-

It’s prettier than the sun. It is seemingly equal. 

It tries to cover the sun, which is much brighter and more impressive. You can only see the moon because of the sun. It is but a poor imitation of the real thing. The sun goes down, and the moon greedily rises to take its place. It takes what’s left of the light, and attempts to glow in the same manner. On its own, the moon floats uselessly. It doesn’t glow, or look pretty. When the sun rises again, it has to hide away, because it cannot look the same. 

Starscream is the moon. 

…

“I thought you forgot about me here.” 

Cliffjumper doesn’t even look at the Decepticon that enters the habsuite. It had been almost two days since he had last seen the seeker. His Energon is low. 

“I didn’t have the time. Unlike the Autobots, I actually have an army to run.” 

“Until Megatron comes back. Let’s see how long your reign over the Decepticons lasts, Screamer.” 

Starscram winces at the nickname. A long time ago, it had been an affectionate joke. Now, it’s less than that. The words of the Autobot are true- Starscream is also waiting for the warlord to come back. Everyone is. There isn’t anybody that doesn’t know that his position of First in Command is temporary.

“Do the Autobots really want Megatron to come back?” 

The question sounded a bit more serious than he intended to make it sound. Cliffjumper frowns. This time, it’s Starscream that isn’t offered an answer. 

Out of his subspace, he grabs a cube of Energon. If Megatron were here, it would be obvious that some of the rations were going missing, but since he isn’t, their mining operations are actually going well, and they do have the Energon to spare.

“I’m not letting you free, and I am most definitely not fueling you myself, so you will have to bear this discomfort for a second.”

Starscream adjusts the restraints on the Autobot, making it so his arm has movement right in front of his facial plates. It is a slightly awkward position, but Starscream truly doesn’t want to fuel nor intubate the red mech. 

“Take it.” 

“...You messed with this.” 

Starscream rolls his optics and shoves the cube into his servo. 

“Die of Starvation, or risk drinking from the cube. I don’t care.” 

The blue of the Energon is bright. There are no obvious signs that it had been tampered with, probably since Starscream actually didn’t. But, he knows that the Autobot believing him is an unlikely scenario. He doesn’t even know why he’s giving him Energon in the first place. 

“Do you actually think I will-” 

“Then don’t! If you drop it, you’re cleaning it. Now shut up .” 

Starscream doesn’t think he can have any more conversation. His processor is already on fire, he doesn’t know when his master is coming back, he still has so much work to do, and even more is piling up. He hasn’t gone out to fly in a long time, and it’s driving him insane. The last recharge must have been ages ago, because every system is lagging behind. He’s pretty sure that his back strut is actually numb because he doesn’t have the energy to keep those systems online. 

For the first time in decades, Starscream moves towards the berth instead of the chair. It creakes from lack of use as he lies on it, ignoring the gaze on him. 

“-Are you actually just going to recharge?” 

“Silence.” 

Starscream dims the lights with a command through his hud. His arm covers his optics as he offlines them, letting every single limb fall onto the berth. It had been a while. The blanket is still bunched up on the side of the berth from years he doesn’t remember. He doesn’t dare touch it. He’s sure it will burn his digits if he touches it. 

Just for a bit. He will recharge for a bit, and then he will get back to work. Maybe by then, the stupid Autobot will have decided that starvation isn’t the smarter choice and will actually drink the Energon that he had given him earlier. 

His processor locks into standby mode, and Starscream sets his auto-boot to twenty earth minutes. His frame is unmoving, and Cliffjumper watches as the arm covering his optics falls to the side limply. 

“What the… he’s actually sleepin’?”

He didn’t expect the Second in Command of the Decepticons to fall into recharge in front of an enemy soldier just like that. Sure, he is tied up and holding an Energon cube, which doesn’t exactly look very threatening, but it is still extremely careless. He hadn’t even checked whether or not all restraints are still in place, which they are, or if he had done anything to the room, which he hadn’t, but… 

“He sure looks less evil when he’s knocked out.” 

Starscream’s mean face is actually not naturally his resting face, as it turns out. He is just frowning all the time. His resting face is a lot more neutral, and he looks… exhausted.

Cliffjumper can guess that running the entire Decepticon army is not easy, especially in a way where no soldiers are used as cannon fodder. 

“I need to stop pitying the ‘cons… damn.” 

His comms are completely offline, and he can’t reach the Autobot base at all. Surely, the work of either Soundwave or Shockwave. Which he is surprised to not have seen yet. 

Soundwave and Shockwave are both under the direct command of Megatron, currently Starscream. He also doesn’t understand why he is in the personal habsuite of the Second instead of the brig or just a cell. 

Unless… 

“Wait, do the other Decepticons even know I’m here?” 

A shiver runs down his spinal strut. Is he actually stuck here with just Starscream? 

Chapter Text

Before his auto-boot can wake him up from his brief recharge, a comm marked ‘important’ from Soundwave does. And when his tired optics manage to scan through the message, he shoots up from the berth and scrambles to get on his pedes. His struts buckle a few times before he gets it right. Cliffjumper jumps from the sudden movement, looking at the Decepticon in surprise. 

“Give a mech a warning, man-” 

Starscream isn’t even listening to him, that much he figures out on his own. He’s running out of the habsuite and locking it behind him before he can even ask what he was rushing for. In Starscream’s optics, Cliffjumper recognises fear. He doesn’t like it. He assumes that there’s one thing that can scare Starscream like that, and he’s not sure he likes that either. 

On the seeker’s hud, the message is still lit up and waiting to be confirmed as read. 

[Permission to use Space Bridge: Signal identified as that of lord Megatron.]

Starscream’s processor races against time. What is he supposed to do? Of course , he should approve of this request- he needs to. Megatron is coming back. He needs to open the Nemesis so they can welcome their leader…

Megatron is coming back. 

Megatron… is coming back. 

He’s coming?

His exvents are erratic, his invents shallow. Air isn’t cycling through his frame properly. Starscream needs to slow down, turn his fans on, and reply to Soundwave. He doesn’t. His steps are faster, and he sees the black and purple mech standing near the console. He looks at Soundwave, greeted by the black mask. Nothing is said, which is usual for them. Starscream can feel the tremor in his servos intensifying. It takes him a few klicks to realize that it’s his entire frame, and not just his servos that are rattling noisily. 

“S-Soundwave, are you sure the signal is correct?” 

Of course he is. Starscream knows that Soundwave would never notify him of something like this unless he was sure. He doesn’t want it to be true. He doesn’t want him to come back. Starscream doesn’t want it to happen again. 

He’s scared. 

“Engaging Space Bridge Protocol.”

Starscream tries to stutter out another word to maybe delay it a bit, but the bridge is already coming to life. It thrums with the energy of all the Energon that Starscream had sourced and kept. It was all of his hard work being siphoned in order to bring the real king back to his palace that Starscream had taken. 

Silver. 

Metal. 

Quite like his own plating, but it looks different. Regal. This frame has an air of authority around it. It’s big, towering over his own, the symbol of their very faction. The embodiment of the Decepticon ideology.

Starscream trembled at the sight of the mech walking through. Of course Soundwave was right. He had never been wrong before, and he wouldn’t be wrong now. Megatron stepped through that bridge as if Starscream hadn’t nearly given his life to make it happen. Starscream isn’t in the right mind to mourn his effort. 

“My liege..” 

Soundwave greets Megatron like it’s second nature. Starscream’s voice box malfunctions instead. His frame aches, remembering things that his processor can’t catch up with. His leg struts nearly crumble, but he’s frozen. He’s scared. He wants to get out of here. Away from him. 

“Soundwave.” 

The warlord acknowledges him.Those two had always been something so normal and neutral, for some time, Starscream had admired it. The red optics drift over to him, and a smile that wasn’t there before has the nature of something sinister. The seeker bites his derma, trying to ground himself. That gaze holds much more behind it than what’s visible on the surface.

“Well, Starscream? How was it to finally have what you’ve always wanted? Did you have fun playing leader while I was gone?” 

No, not at all.

“My lord, I-”

“Quiet! You’ve played king long enough, Starscream.”

Megatron didn’t raise his arm to hit him. That’s the time when he notices the strange object in Megatron’s servo. Crystal, purple and glowing. Nothing that looks like it’s good.

It makes him nauseous. He doesn’t want it anywhere near his frame. 

Starscream doesn’t want to look at it at all. Instead, he looks at his master. Megatron notices the object of his previous and short-lived interest, his smile returning

“Dark Energon, Starscream . This is the army I promised. Won’t you help me test it out?” 

The Energon in his fuel lines ran cold. Megatron grips the shard tighter, raising it slightly. With a wince, Starscream stumbles back. He doubts that this is used through consumption. 

“All I need is your frame, Starscream.” 

He had heard those words once before. Shame rips through him. 

Chapter Text

Starscream doesn't have time to think before the shard in Megatron's servo cuts through the air with clear intent. With the strength of a former gladiator and warlord like Megatron, it shatters his chassis plating and stabs straight through to his sparkchamber. The pain registers after the shock, but his pained scream is cut short by the servo harshly clamping his derma shut with force, as if annoyed by his display of anguish.

Everything begins spinning, and Starscream can't keep his optics open for longer than a klick. His entire visual feed is overtaken by that nauseating lilac colour, his tanks churn, and he feels the need to purge. The already little amount of Energon he consumed makes its way up to his intake. He recoils in fear.

His frame is spasming as all systems start to go haywire, commands on his hud making no sense at all. It fuels the helmache. The lines in his entire frame are pumping, throbbing as the Energon rushes through them. Every limb goes flat before they tremble and twitch, powered by something entirely different now. Starscream realizes that any control he previously had over his frame is being torn away by the second. His processor is doing flips in his helm. Nothing is making sense, and the only thing he does is wait for a command. Everything hurts, and for some reason, his audials are picking up the voices of others as if they are underwater. Pain is overtaken by fear, fear is overtaken by terror, and that is overtaken by the ability of feeling nothing as everything swims. 

Everything hurts, but his frame forces him to ignore it. He can't see, he can't hear- he's moving and his body responds in jolts and jerks, but he doesn't know what or where to. His spark pulses in agony briefly, before even that connection is shut out and he begins spiraling. More and more of his consciousness fades.

He isn't in control. He never was.

The coding inside of his entire body jumps and scatters. That hurts a lot. Some part of his frame just took damage, and that hurts, but he's told to get up, so he does. His plating is dented and warped somewhere, but he's told to transform, and so he does. That hurts too.

Starscream loses himself. The last thing his processor consciously manages to initiate is a stasis protocol to get rid of the foreign substance, and then he's gone. His spark flashes weakly in its chamber.

"Take him to the medbay. Looks like this useless seeker managed to initiate stasis."

With a click of his glossa, Megatron moves away, and Soundwave stares at the limp form of Starscream on the ground. The stasis can't even be mistaken for recharge if they try. His optics had gone grey instead of shuttering closed, and his entire frame is rigid. There are clear marks and dents on his frame, and residue of a system crash.

Soundwave still extends his cords, lifting him up and making his way towards the medbay. An order is an order after all.

Knockout doesn't react when he brings him in, but it's obvious that the medic is surprised by the shift in his posture.

"Soundwave! I see Lord Megatron is back! I shall greet him when I'm done with the Commander here..-"

Soundwave doesn't leave, still focused on Starscream. He hadn't thought that Megatron would stab that shard into Starscream either, but it wasn't entirely unexpected. Starscream was still online.

"Order: Get Starscream functioning; quickly."

"Of course! Expect nothing less~"

With that note, Soundwave does finally leave the medbay. Knockout relaxes, and Breakdown walks forward from the back of the ward. No words are exchanged between the two. The medbay had been quiet for a few years, but their time spent tending to the Second in Command was much longer. They begin opening up the chassis plating, and Knockout frowns.

"Quite the damage for his first day back."

Breakdown shushes him.

"Inside voice, Knockout. You're going to get us in trouble."

The medic exvents harshly. He didn't miss his work at all. But, the chassis was a much more comfortable part of the frame to work on when it came to Starscream.

"As bad as it sounds, I'm glad it's just this."

Nanite patches and welding would have to do most of the job if Soundwave wants him up as soon as possible. For Starscream, that just means an agonising healing process and pain, but nothing the seeker will complain about. His self healing would probably work day and night. 

Breakdown starts removing the purple shards that still stuck to the shattered and rough patches of plating on his chassis, placing them on the tray to be disposed of. Knockout gives them a disapproving look. 

“That must be what our lord impaled him with. Doubt it means anything good.” 

Both of them can already feel the influx of patients for the medbay and their shoulders sag. 

…

Cliffjumper notices the ruckus going on outside of the habsuite. He had managed to recharge for a bit, and the Energon that Starscream shoved into his servo unceremoniously had been consumed a while ago. He dropped the cube to the floor. Starscream would probably snap at him for it later. 

Noisy. 

Cliffjumper knows that he assumed correctly earlier. If the Decepticons are making this much noise, then that means one thing. 

Megatron. 

The return of the warlord is something that the Autobots have been anticipating for a while now. His thoughts drift back to what Starscream had said. 

‘Do the Autobots really want Megatron to come back?’

Cliffjumper exvents. As much as he hates to admit it, Starscream is right in his own way. The Autobots aren’t particularly fond of Starscream, but he is much better to deal with that Megatron. The past few years have been less harsh on them in comparison to when the warlord had been in control. Starscream works with discipline, and he keeps his own best interest in mind. Anything that inconveniences him is left out of the list. Those kinds of things usually also include fights. There were occasional clashes here and there, but bad injuries and casualties were never a part of them.

So yeah. Megatron coming back is definitely not great. Starscream seems to be of the same opinion, judging by that terrified look on his face earlier. But, he hasn’t heard any bickering from the two, so maybe, it’s going well for the seeker?

Chapter Text

Starscream can't wake up from stasis. 

That, in itself, is a huge problem. Not only to him, but to the entirety of the Decepticons even if they would hate to admit it.

His processor is running, but he is trapped inside of his frame that stubbornly refuses to boot. No matter how many times he tries to initiate a system start, his body refuses due to an unknown error. He can faintly hear Knockout talking, Soundwave questioning and pressing why he wasn't up yet and the occasional shout here and there from Megatron, definitely threatening Knockout’s position on the ship. Through the back of his helm, the countless tasks he still has to do pass through. 

He can't feel anything besides the tips of his digits. He recognizes this feeling from the sedative that Knockout usually uses, which places him at about two hours after sedation. This means that Megatron must have done some actual damage to him while he was under the influence of that Dark Energon, or whatever he had called it. He’d research that later. 

Internally, Starscream tries to exvent in frustration, but to his dismay, even his venting is shallow and regulated by the stasis protocol. He is glad that he is placed in the medbay though. He doesn't want to be in a place where Knockout can't watch him. He doesn't want an unsurveilled place. A room where he could potentially be alone with Megatron is out of the question.

Time passes. He can feel his pedes and leg struts now. His arms tingle every now and then. His audial perception is definitely better than before. Knockout is telling Soundwave that the stasis protocol seems to be malfunctioning, and that any standard procedure is ineffective for now. Starscream has already figured this much out. If this is what it takes to be a medic, he’s been one for decades. He worries about that red Autobot. If he didn’t drink that cube, he would starve. He needs to wake up soon. Starscream isn’t mean enough to leave him without any fuel. For some reason, he wants that mech to survive. He isn’t entirely sure about the reason yet. 

At some point, he feels a presence. It's big, and for a klick, he thinks it might be Breakdown, but the low grumble of an engine that he knows all too well makes him realise that it's definitely Megatron. He can feel the heat coming from his frame. It makes him uncomfortable. Knockout stutters.

"Starscream, you fool. Get up." 

Starscream wonders what the warlord is even doing, talking to a mech that is in stasis to any outsider. But to his own horror and to the glee of Megatron, his frame responds. The stasis lock that had been relentlessly denying the owner of the frame crumbles under the words of a foreign master, and his entire body obeys.

Just like when he was under the influence of the Dark Energon.

Systems begin booting up, optics onlining. The moment his visual feed is online, he can feel the fluid gathering. He wills himelf to hold it in. Now, again in control of his own frame, Starscream is awake. He doesn't move. Only his optics do, locking with Megatron's very own. Face to face with that smile, his servos tremble.

"Recharged well, Starscream?"

He had heard Knockout say that the entirety of the Dark Energon had been flushed out of his fuel lines. So why? Why did his frame only respond to the command of Megatron? Why was he still forced to obey?

"What's wrong? Aren't you happy to see me, Starscream? We were having so much fun earlier..."

Starscream trembles, biting his lower derma. His servos are balled into fists in order to stop them from rattling against the medical berth and making noise. He doesn't want to draw his attention to another weakness.

"You did put on quite a show. You should rest, Starscream. You can call back to your work tomorrow."

With that, Megatron leaves, and Starscream is left following his back with his optics. The warmth that rolled off his frame in waves is now gone. Knockout rushes to stabilize him and prop him up, but the touch of the medic's servo takes him off guard.

"I'm sorry, Commander. We will do another round of purified Energon to make sure that-"

"Knockout." 

He nearly retches. 

"Just do it."

"...Yes, Commander."

Soundwave watches him, his mask tilting slightly before one of the tendrils extends and wraps around the seeker's wrist. Starscream gives him a questioning glance before his wrist goes slack, and he lets him do what he wants. The appendage only wraps around him, and Starscream realises it's supposed to be some form of comfort that Soundwave definitely doesn't know how to give.

Chapter Text

“What a surprise for you to grace me with your presence, Commander Starscream. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Starscream ignores his first instinct to snap back and choke the Autobot, instead rummaging through the datapads organised on the desk. Cliffjumper looks annoyed at the lack of an answer, instead taking to analysing the seeker from helm to pede. 

“I dropped that cube, by the way. I can’t pick it up though.” 

Starscream’s optics drift over to the empty cube on the ground. The mech did give in and consume it after all. Thinking of that…

“I will give you a cube later.” 

He looks a bit roughed up, is what Cliffjumper concludes. A few dents and scratches here and there, or well, everywhere. Some glass on the thin, slightly transparent cockpit is cracked. Starscream’s chassis overall looks a mess. He’d feel bad- but he kind of doesn’t. What kind of Second in Command has such a thin frame, void of any plating in the midst of war anyway? He’s sure that even Arcee has more armor that he does. 

Catching himself in that train of thought, Cliffjumper wonders what he’s even doing. Nobody knows he’s here, and Starscream is doing- nothing. No interrogations, no questions, absolutely nothing. 

He gives him Energon, and leaves. That’s it. How much longer is it supposed to stay this way? 

The seeker is still combing through the datapads, looking for something specific apparently. Cliffjumper can’t quite read it, since it’s a mix of Vosian speak and standard cybertronian. He can tell it’s something he wouldn’t understand though, even if it were just standard speech, since it looks like something scientific. He’s never been the brightest when it came to academics. 

Cliffjumper knows about Starscream. Starscream, before all of the fighting and war, was a scientist— and not just any scientist. The First Air Commander for the Primes, researcher in the Iaconian Science Institute, Vosian Winglord’s heir and head of the Royal Vosian Engineering Research Facility. His reputation was just as big as it is now, perhaps a bit more positive. Even back then, he was known to have a nasty temper though. That’s one thing that hasn’t changed. 

“Hitting the books now, Screamer? What’cha studying?” 

“None of your business. Not like you would understand anyway.”  

Starscream quipped back quite fast. Cliffjumper wasn’t expecting replies, actually, but for the fact that he’s stuck in an enemy zone, he’s really bored. He also pretends to be offended. 

“Well, I’m so sorry for being bored out of my processor while being stuck in this room for breems. Cycles. You get me?” It’s somewhat of a jab at the other for locking him up. 

“If you are so curious, I am looking for data on various types of Energon, Cortical Manipulation and viruses.” 

Cliffjumper shivers, now looking at Starscream in a completely new light. He didn’t take the Second In Command to be such a mech. Then again, he is literally stuck inside of the Nemesis, what is he even expecting? Perhaps he should take the situation as seriously as it is. 

“Hey, I’m a really nice guy. I can take a hit, but-“ 

“Not for you, you vermin! I don’t want the nonsense in your abysmally tiny processor- I can find that out without the use of a cortical patch.” 

Cliffjumper visibly relaxes at the denial of such a device. A cortical psychic patch is the last thing any bot needs, ever. 

“…” 

Starscream continues his search, sometimes eyeing a few datapads and setting them aside for use. Others are sneered at, thrown to the side and then sorted back in. It takes a while until Starscream seems satisfied with what he’s found- or rather, there’s nothing else to find. With the datapads, he sits down at the table and looks through them. Cliffjumper has no choice but to watch. Minutes pass by. 

“Uhm…” 

Starscream doesn’t pay him any mind as he keeps on reading, optics laser focused on the topics he’s clearly very interested in. 

“Uh-“ 

“What.” 

Starscream glares. Cliffjumper resets his vocaliser. The voice box needs a few seconds to function properly. 

“Wanna read it out loud?” 

Starscream looks at him, his expression mildly annoyed. His wings are hiked up in what is clearly an agitated, confused and maybe a guarded stance. 

“No need for you to hear any of this.” 

“Maybe I want to know? Besides, like you said, I can’t do much with it. I am not as smart as you…” 

There might be intel. Or anything. He might find out why Starscream is suddenly invested in these topics, perhaps even hear the issue. There could be beneficial things, so he can try his luck. No harm in trying to get on Starscream’s good side. 

Starscream stares for a second, before huffing an exvent and turning back towards the datapad. Cliffjumper mourns his effort, thinking that maybe he’d try again later, but to his surprise, Starscream begins talking. 

“Cortical Manipulation is possible through patches and a mutual connection, Shadowplay, or through Empurata and partial empurata. Well, Shadowplay doesn’t directly count as cortical manipulation, but rather an alteration…”

He isn’t directly just reading and translating it- Starscream is voicing his entire thought process out loud too. That surprises Cliffjumper- he didn’t expect the Second in Command to openly just say whatever he thinks, especially in front of an enemy like himself. 

“Temporary manipulation can be done through different substances, although that wears off after a certain amount of time, and the effects are reversed. Not enough ethical research could be done on the topic, so the information is somewhat limited in this field of research. It’s related to the consumption of highgrade engex, and cyberflora that have psychedelic and hallucinogenic effects or properties. Stuff that you Autobots cannot get your servos on if you tried.”

Cliffjumper takes offense to the statement before he fully takes in what Starscream had said. If he heard correctly, this implies that the Decepticons, or at least Starscream— have engex, highgrade, and potentially even cyberflora. Alive. On the ship? 

“On the other servo, deliriants can have a more permanent or at least longer lasting impact on a bot, but those can also potentially overdose on accident without achieving the goal, so that’s not really a good idea.“ 

Starscream keeps reading and speaking for such a long time, it reminds Cliffjumper of the cycles back when he was read bedtime stories. His processor slows down, and he realised he is just too tired. The Air Commander looks dissatisfied with his finds, leaving the datapads on the table before he lies on the berth himself. 

“Didn’t take you for the drowsy type, Autobot.” 

Cliffjumper doesn’t manage to retort before he nods off— shame. 

Chapter Text

“Optimus, it’s been so long- they’re putting him through torture there!” 

The small base in the desert shakes with anxiety and fear. Not an unknown tension, but stronger than usual. 

For the Autobots and their limited resources, it is practically impossible to rescue Cliffjumper from the Decepticons unless they take a huge risk. The only thing they know is the fact that he’s online- which isn’t much. Even so, it somehow puts their sparks at rest that they still have a chance. 

Occasionally, Ratchet can see other data when the interrupting field is wavering, such as his Energon levels, but they also seem to be fluctuating. They can’t know if the inaccuracies lie within the readings, or within Cliffjumper— perhaps both. Their technology is foreign to themselves, and they do as much as they can with Ratchet’s skill, but even then, the struggle is apparent. 

“We have no choice but to wait for the Decepticons to appear in order to have a chance, Arcee.” 

Optimus understands. Arcee is surely upset and distressed with the kidnapping of her partner, afraid of losing another one, but there truly is nothing they can do. If he could, he would go and rescue Cliffjumper himself, but it’s not possible for them. It puts Bumblebee on edge, and Bulkhead isn’t entirely sure how to deal with Arcee. Not only that, they’ve been getting into contact with humans- not to their advantage. Roping in young humans that are practically in their sparklinghood is something Optimus would like to avoid. 

“We still have hope, as long as his signal is online, Arcee. What we need now, is patience. We will do our best to get Cliffjumper back.” 

The movements of the Decepticons had changed- things had been calm ever since the disappearance of Megatron, but recently, their presence has become more apparent. They fear the worst, but there is no evidence of Megatron coming back just yet. Starscream might be changing his tactics in leading, trying to go for a more aggressive approach, or perhaps they are now lacking supplies. Not everything has to be what they assume is the worst. 

Arcee slumps, her worry apparent. They haven’t seen her like this, ever since her previous partner…—

They have to hope that Starscream is different. Unlike Airachnid and Megatron. 

“We have to believe that Starscream, unlike Megatron, sees a reason in keeping our comrade online.” 

… 

“I don’t know why I’m keeping you online.” 

Cliffjumper grimaces, his optics drifting off to the side. If he were free, he would be fidgeting right now, but the only thing he can do is creak in his restraints uncomfortably. He gives it a sarcastic guess. 

“Because I’m cool?” 

“…Definitely not.” 

Cliffjumper appreciates that his joke fell flat and didn’t anger the Decepticon SIC. Starscream exvents and hands him the cube before giving another nasty look to the datapads that Cliffjumper can’t quite decipher. His research didn’t prove to be useful, and he can’t find anything on this dark Energon. His frame is free of the after effects— he can now release himself from recharge and stasis on his own, so he is free to assume that even with a potent dose of the dark Energon, effects are temporary as long as the infected is alive and capable of resisting. He wonders if it was psychological, rather than influencing his controls it might be affecting his emotional receptors and triggering different neuromechanical reactions. But he can’t prove anything without proper research, which he definitely doesn’t want to do on himself. 

His gaze drifts over to Cliffjumper. 

Having an Autobot captive to take care of simultaneously while adjusting to Megatron’s return isn’t easy. It’s actually about as inconvenient as it gets. 

But, perhaps this Autobot can be of some use. 

“Actually…. I think I do know why I’m keeping you online.” 

Starscream smiles. Cliffjumper is pretty sure he’s not in for a good time, judging by the sinister expression. 

All Starscream has to do is get his hands on some of that dark Energon. Who said that he’d have to conduct the experiments on himself? He has the perfect Guinea pig at his disposal. 

…

Shockwave doesn’t want to give him a sample— that much is obvious. Starscream manages to convince him with enough scientific bullshit, blabbing anything he can think of that might relate even remotely to the rock. Besides, it’s not like he’s actively lying. He’s just twisting words here and there. Shockwave is a scientist, sure, but Starscream has a past backing him up that even Shockwave can’t discredit. 

With the sample in his servos and enough determination, Starscream makes his way to his laboratory, which has been swiped clean, since every mech is now in Shockwave’s lab instead, aiding him in the development of the dark Energon. 

This means that Starscream has the entirety of his lab to himself…

He begins his work on the substance, dividing it into pieces and refining it. Some are turned into liquid, stored in small vials and others are mixed with regular Energon, effectively thinning it out. 

The work reminds him of a time long in the past— back when things weren’t about war and survival, when he had the freedom to discover and invent things, when he had the chance to work on making Cybertron a better place and secure the future of a planet so glorious. 

It reminds him of bots he would never get to talk to again, their remains scattered across the dead expanse of what he used to call his home. Mechs that changed so much he could hardly recognise what they’ve become, their old sparks shrouded by the thick smoke of war. Mechs he held close to his own spark were now in pieces and a part of his own frame. Back when Starscream was a scientist, he would have never foreseen this future. Now he knows that it must’ve been inevitable. He lives it now- nothing else available for him but to take this path to the very end. 

“This might have a similar effect to engex, or even something stronger…” 

Focusing on the Energon again distracts him from memories that are shoved into a corner of his processor. It looks nearly indistinguishable from regular Energon. Perfect. He poured a lot of effort into this, and now, the only thing left is to test it out. 

Most of the other samples are stored in contamination containers, isolated from the other flora and experiments he keeps in the lab. 

“It’s time for your daily ration!” 

He can’t help the smile, his derma curling. Finally, something goes according to his wishes. 

Chapter Text

“It’s time for your daily ration!” 

The way Starscream says those words is different from usual. The cube he’s carrying looks normal to him. 

Cliffjumper doesn’t know whether or not to drink the Energon, especially considering what he had mentioned last time. But, Starscream had already complained once before. Apparently, according to the mech himself, Starscream was taking these out of his own ration, so him not drinking it would be wasting it. 

“…you messed with the cube this time though.” 

“I did.” 

The commander admits it without hesitation. His optics have an eerie look to them that Cliffjumper is sure he hates. His spark whirrs uneasily. 

“And I’m still supposed to drink it?” 

“Precisely. The effects of nausea, confusion, fatigue, loss of control and lack of neurological function might be apparent, but it’s nothing to worry about. With this dosage, it will wear off after about… 300 klicks.” 

The red mech looks at the cube. From the outside, it doesn’t look like anything has been done to it. Colour, consistency and scent are the same as he usually knows, but the Decepticon admitted to altering it. 

“Are you trying to poison me?”

“Why would I even go through the trouble… No, I’m using you to develop an antibody for it. You are restrained, and of no use to me otherwise.” 

An antibody. Cliffjumper is again reminded that Starscream used to be a scientist, and technically still is one. Positively, Starscream is a scientist that knows what he’s doing, so the results will be within his expectations. Negatively, Cliffjumper doesn’t know what he’s doing - which makes him oblivious to anything the Decepticon might attempt. Even though he openly admitted that he messed with the cube, this doesn’t mean anything else he’s saying is true. 

He weighs his options- there is refusal, which is followed by being forced to cooperate, and essentially the same as accepting. However, accepting might get him on a softer side of the seeker— which means, he might also get out of here unscathed. Might give him a chance of seeing Arcee again. 

“…None of the effects are permanent?” 

“Even if they were, I’d make sure to terminate any after effects. You’re in the servos of one of the most capable scientists that Cybertron ever knew. Relax.” 

Cliffjumper trembles. Starscream’s confidence isn’t without reason or fueled by his ego. He knows of the achievements the seeker has made long before the conflicts. If they weren’t at war, Cliffjumper would probably admire Starscream. 

He hesitates, but drinks the Energon anyway. 

Nothing happens at first, but the mentioned nausea sets in pretty quickly. He’s always been quick to get nauseous with weird fuel too… His hud takes on a purple tint, glitching a few times before it goes back to normal— it reminds him of a weird virus he caught once. His entire frame starts twitching, as if trying to rip itself from his control, but it goes slack right after, and the fatigue settles over him. Lefts and rights are confusing, and until his helm stops thrumming, he settles on closing his optics. 

“Hmm… Tell me, are any of your systems compromised?” 

“Uhh… nn…nno—“ 

His speech is slurred and a bit static-y, but Starscream understands what he wants to say anyway before nodding. Somewhere on his frame, a port is opened, and Cliffjumper can feel a cable being plugged in at the back of his neck; Starscream connected them both via hardline. It takes some of the strain off of his own frame, now sharing it with the seeker. He doesn’t remember agreeing to this, but his firewalls are basically as useful as a wet tissue. 

“I’m checking which systems are responding to the invasion.” 

It reminds Cliffjumper of Ratchet, in a way. The medic would always narrate what he’s doing to make sure his patients were aware. Whereas Wheeljack would simply start hammering away at a frame like it was a toy. Though, he still appreciates both of them. 

“You’re made of quite solid metal… internal systems are fighting the Energon variant, trying to filter it. Not quite succeeding, but also not entirely ineffective.” 

Starscream fiddles with the connection, and Cliffjumper can feel an entirely different part of his frame accessed. This time, it’s closer to his spark, away from his processor. The sensation of Starscream’s systems going through his cables and reading all kinds of coding makes him nervous, and it’s definitely crossing some sort of ethical line, but he’s not nearly conscious enough to refuse any of it. 

“Remarkable resistance. Filtering systems show function that declines the foreign substance, but only second to your spark. It’s directly trying to expel it.” 

The push of observation pulls back, and Cliffjumper feels a bit more at ease. Starscream unplugs the cable, closes the port and removes himself from the proximity of the Autobot. 

“You’re responding well. For quite a small dose at least. You should get used to the feeling.” 

That’s the last thing he hears before he passes out. 

… 

Starscream is impressed with the Autobot’s resistance to the dark Energon. He has a significantly better response than Starscream did, although the dosage was way smaller and inserted via consumption, rather than being brutally inserted by force straight to his spark. A straight attempt at his life. 

In his processor, he is already calculating the mixtures for the next trial, how much Energon he might need, the ratios of each test, running through each and every step. 

This puts a definite strain on his own Energon, reducing it by half. Starscream knows his frame is capable of taking that strain and even worse, but the knowledge of having to go with less fuel isn’t exactly comforting. 

Megatron’s return stunts his own ability. Starscream will adjust to it, he’s sure, but it’s still not comfortable. That space bride has reduced their already low rations even more. He mourns the loss briefly. 

His optics pass over the slack form of the red mech briefly before they roll, instead focusing on the data pad in the corner. 

Dark Energon. 

He’d figure it out, bit by bit.

Chapter Text

The comms blaring on his hud aren’t helping. The last time he had gotten pinged like this had also spoken for disaster, and this time probably wouldn’t be any less worse. Do the Autobots always cause trouble when it’s the least convenient for him? Are they here because of their comrade? Is Starscream in trouble? Starscream is most definitely in trouble. 

Attacking the mine that is right underneath them that Starscream had painstakingly acquired after endless suffering? Sure, that had been within his own expectations. Doing that while Megatron is on the ship in a not-so-great mood? Not so sure. Then again, there probably isn’t a known moment where the warlord ever has been or is in a good mood. By now, the Autobots must have been made aware of their lovely leader’s return. He doesn’t exactly know what to think about it. 

“Soundwave? What’s the state of things?!” 

He doesn’t get a comm back from the mech- and this just confirms that nobody is bothering to interrupt the movement of their leader until the very moment his command booms. Megatron is observing the mine, already at the site. Starscream wants to fly down, defend his hard work, but a large servo holds him back. 

“Starscream will get injured in the crossfire. Descending is illogical. Fall back.” 

Shockwave watches the scene, throwing Starscream back. The seeker tumbles briefly, faint dust kicking up as he’s flung to the floor. 

“Ugh..!” 

Megatron is down there, with the Autobots, fighting, and Shockwave isn’t letting him off the ship. He can assume it’s a direct order from Megatron to keep him here. He looks at the scientist, unsure of the intent behind his actions. 

“Shockwave, the mine..!” 

“Direct orders from Lord Megatron. Blow the mine.” 

No. 

Starscream stares at the purple Decepticon, red optics trembling in disbelief. Blow up the mine… the biggest Energon mine they’ve ever possessed, that he worked so hard for? He's supposed to blow it up? 

[Starscream. Blow it up.]

Megatron’s voice rumbles through his intercom. The warlord has already transformed and is coming back towards the Nemesis. The Autobots are the only ones left in the mine. Starscream needs to authorise it and blow it up, he has to aim and— 

“I can’t..!” 

[Starscream, I said— blow up that mine! Now!]

Shockwave hoists him up, and Starscream closes his optics. He feels his frame moving against his will, controlled by someone else. 

Debris shatters and falls. 

The noise is deafening. 

His hard work crumbles, and Starscream feels helpless. As usual, the entirety of his efforts crumble down. The Energon crystals are now buried, and the mine is no longer of any use. 

The hold on his frame is now gentler and less forced, and Shockwave still supports him enough so he can stand. His plating is rattling and his struts are trembling, which is probably the only reason the scientists hasn’t let him go yet. 

“Can’t even blow up a single mine without assistance, Starscream?” 

His helm whips around, locking on Megatron. He doesn’t look mad, but something in his gaze makes Starscream’s vents hitch. The warlord doesn’t approach, simply staring at him with something akin to disdain, before turning around and going elsewhere. 

“I suggest going back to your work, Starscream.” 

The seeker pushes himself off, his steps unsure and unsteady as he walks back. It hasn’t even been a proper joor. That’s how fast everything usually goes to scrap for him. 

He doesn’t go to his work station like he’s supposed to, instead tumbling towards his habsuite, reason unknown even to himself. He doesn’t know why the walk feels infinitely harder this time. How much longer until he reaches that blasted door? 

The sound of his pedes hitting the floor is recognisable to any Decepticon, and they move out of the way. Starscream doesn’t hear their usual greetings and salutations, perhaps because they didn’t voice them, or because he doesn’t pick up on them. It doesn’t matter now. 

His vents are shallow, but regular. He’s completely out of it, he realises, too out of it to even panic and control his venting himself. His frame is doing things on autopilot— venting, walking, seeing. The moment he attempts to speed up, his struts weaken, and he knows it’s better to just do whatever the autopilot is doing. 

The moment he reaches the door to his habsuite, the door doesn’t open, and he has to manually override the encryption. When the lock hisses open, he stumbles through the frame ridden with scratches and dents, his digits scraping it. A shallow, barely visible scratch joins hundreds of others. 

The Autobot is awake now, and…

The red Autobot looks at him. He must’ve picked up on the commotion and the noise, after all the noise was deafening. Starscream is reminded that this mech is isolated, and most of the time, on his own, other than the times he is with Starscream. For a brief moment, he sees himself in this mech, isolated and lonely. Shut off from the world as he can do nothing but await his fate. 

His frame is trembling, he knows, and he must look crazy right now. If it were any other time, he would care about it, but right now, his processor is only filled with questions. How they dare. 

“Why?” 

Cliffjumper doesn’t know what to do with that question. He simply keeps the optical contact. At this moment, bound and shackled, Cliffjumper stands taller than Starscream. His spark pulses idly. 

“Why, just why do you always manage to ruin everything for me?” 

His voice box is full of static, and every word that comes out is strained. A pitch higher than normal. Cliffjumper recognizes it as distress, panic and- he frowns at the idea that the Second In Command of the Decepticons is upset. Not mad, or annoyed, but genuinely upset. His EM field is tightly bound around his body like a secret. 

“Your stupid friends— barge into my mine, and pick a- a fight!” 

His comrades had probably come to see him, if anything. Perhaps even rescue him if they got the chance. A lost opportunity, because Megatron was there, out of their expectations. 

“Why can’t you just stay where you are?! Keep to yourself, keep your servos off my- my things and leave me alone!” 

By now, Starscream is pacing, his entire frame shaking like a sparkling would under rain, sharp digits stuck between denta that are malforming the material mercilessly. Optics are unfocused and darting around, and it reminds Cliffjumper that Starscream is also a mech underneath all of the bravado, mockery and confidence. He doesn’t want to pity him, but it doesn’t go away easily. 

“Now it’s gone— all of it is gone and it’s going to be my fault, and I’m going to get punished, and—“ 

“Slow down, Scream. What even happened.” 

Starscream’s optics find his, and Cliffjumper winces. He doesn’t want to see that kind of expression on an enemy’s faceplates. Starscream is scared, terrified even. 

“What could have happened?! Your friends barge in, and Megatron tells me to blow everything up! Now the mine is gone, and I’m at fault!” 

That is probably why there was such a loud noise earlier. The entire Energon mine below them had been blown to smithereens. Cliffjumper worries about his comrades, but he knows they made it out. Otherwise, the Decepticons would be in an entirely different mood. And Starscream, who had blown it up, definitely wouldn’t be getting punished. 

“And it’s not even a lie, because they came for you, and I’m the reason you’re here!” 

That’s true. It is indeed Starscream’s fault. Cliffjumper can’t even lie to him and tell him it isn’t. It’s painfully obvious, to the both of them. 

“You can find another mine and make it up, can’t you?—“ 

“You don’t understand! You..!” 

That monster would use any excuse to defile me. 

Starscream stops himself before anything more slips out, and he huffs out an exvent so shaky, Cliffjumper would send him to the medbay if he could. 

Starscream doesn’t bother with any of that, and a sickening crack echoes through the room as the tip of Starscream’s index digit breaks off. The claw is now dull from the excess chewing, and Cliffjumper doesn’t know if a seeker’s sensory system reaches all the way to their claws, but the Energon dribbling down his servo says it probably does. Starscream doesn’t flinch, almost as if he’s used to it, and simply moves on to another digit, resuming the gnawing. 

He becomes a bit nauseous at the sight, but more so confused. His optics cycle and focus on the seeker. 

“I’m doomed… I can’t— it’s going to happen again, it will happen, and I- I will- I, he will—“ 

The senseless stuttering is void of anything useful, but Cliffjumper can assume it’s about said punishment. 

Cliffjumper doesn’t know that the punishment exceeds his own expectations, as to how the Decepticon gets reprimanded for his mistakes. 

Chapter Text

The habsuite remained locked that night. Cliffjumper didn’t manage to get any recharge in, by the grace of Starscream whose plating kept rattling throughout the entire night, creaking sounds echoing through the room as he kept chewing on his digits incessantly. Odd mumblings, ragged vents, shuffling on the berth the entire time— His systems were complaining about the constant changes in mode. 

Every single time recharge begins to creep up on him, something else startles him awake.

At some point in the night, he gives up on the idea of getting any rest. His optics lock on Starscream, something like worry swirling behind them. The seeker's optics are distracted, unfocused and glowing brighter than anything he's ever seen. They cast a red glow onto the thin blanket he's staring at, as if the blanket could save him from whatever was awaiting him. Unlike usual, Starscream's wings are low, lying on top of each other and completely still. They don't twitch, tremble or move. Something inside him says it's not meant to be like that, and that seekers express all of their emotions subtly through their wingspeak. Their wings aren't supposed to look dead. It looks wrong, especially on Starscream. His tanks churn, and he pins the blame on the weird concoction he'd been told to drink.

The odd mumbles are scary too. Cliffjumper isn't one to be particularly easily scared of things, but hearing the mech whisper hushed words that he can barely make out isn't exactly as comforting as a lullaby.

Sometimes, the seeker gets up, moving around the tiny habsuite, pedes clacking against the floor in rhythms that sound oddly calming. Even if he dislikes Starscream, he can appreciate the fact that his pedes make nice noises against the floor. He doesn't exactly know the reason for their elevated construction, but it does look neat. He had brought up the idea to Arcee, perhaps as an aesthetical mod, but she insisted that it would reduce her mobility and abilities to fight. Starscream still seems pretty agile and strong despite the heels, but in comparison he is also airborne. 

Right before he can ask about it though, Starscream perks up, his optics gaining a somewhat wild touch as they dart around. He thinks it's because he's reading a comm, however he’s not sure as his behaviour has been erratic for a while now. Cliffjumper notes the changes in the aerial's frame, plating clamping down tightly on his protoform, ceasing the trembling. His wings twitch once, maybe twice before they droop even lower. The tip of his claw he'd been biting cracks off, this time a different one. Energon glows faintly as it dribbles down the curve of the appendage, reaching his servo and even his joints, settling into seams and chips. The shallow venting takes on a deeper function, as if the frame is doing its best to cycle air through the components and entirely failing, as the air expelled is hot- way too hot, and Cliffjumper notes the overheating. The air that reaches him almost makes condensation build up.

"No, no... Not now, not- not again, n-"

He cuts himself off, and when their optics lock, he realizes that Starscream looks much scarier like this, rather than that grin he usually sports. It makes his spark skip a pulse in discomfort. He seems to have forgotten that this Starscream is the same Decepticon he faced on the battlefield, ruthless murderer and merciless Air Commander. 

The seeker, realizing that he has unwanted company in the habsuite, leaves the habsuite in a fashion that Cliffjumper thinks suits him. Quick, uncaring, and without looking back even once.

He falls into recharge pretty quickly afterwards. The echoing noise of him walking away kind of helps, in a way.

…

His steps are hurried, but he doesn't seem to be getting to the throne room any faster. It isn't plausible, because his habsuite isn't even that far away from the throne room at all. Nearly everybody is in recharge by now, so the halls of the Nemesis send back only the noise of his own making. Judging by the lack of movement, he thinks even Soundwave is back in his own quarters. That makes sense, because why else would Megatron call him over, if not for when Soundwave is absent? Shockwave is probably somewhere in his lab, experimenting on something as always. Knockout and Breakdown, definitely in recharge. That vain medic would never miss his 'beauty-sleep' if there was nothing going on. Dreadwing and Skyquake retired early this day. 

This leaves Starscream, Megatron, and a few mindless drones.

Fear gnaws its way from his pedes to his helm, going through every circuit until it reaches his spark, invading every nook and cranny inside the chamber. Starscream knows he's scared.

When he reaches the throne room, that fear only amplifies. Megatron doesn't look angry, not at all. There's something in his expression that he reads as apathy, maybe even pity. Perhaps it's satisfaction. Starscream can't properly tell, since the warlord's EM field is pulled so tightly against his own bulky frame. The face doesn’t always match the spark. 

"Starscream. You took your time getting here, didn't you?"

Starscream doesn't answer. He doesn't think he can. He also doesn't think that Megatron even wants an answer to that question. His fate is sealed— it had been, ever since Megatron had entered the Nemesis through that spacebridge.

"Let the Autobots invade your biggest mine and then blow it up... Not quite a positive achievement, don't you think so, Starscream?"

At the time of the incident, he hadn't even been the one on surveillance duty, and blowing it up had been completely against his wishes. But to Megatron, none of that mattered. Megatron wasn’t punishing him for the mistakes he committed. Those reasons for his punishments that he tends to find are never really quite reason enough, and sometimes, the warlord doesn’t even bother coming up with anything. To Starscream, it doesn’t matter either, because as long as he exists on this ship, he will always be in this position. 

He spent cycles thinking of something, anything, any reason as to why he should be punished, until he realised he wouldn’t be able to read the intentions of his master. A pointless effort. 

With a motion, he beckons Starscream over, and the seeker simply follows the command. His steps aren’t steady, but they suffice as he makes his way to the large throne, right into the servos of the warlord. He doesn’t look ahead. He doesn’t want to look into those optics or hold that gaze. Instead, he just looks at the floor, letting himself be dragged to sit down on a large and sturdy strut. It reminds Starscream of a mech he once knew, way back when he was still a scientist, sturdier and even bigger than the one he’s sitting on now. He was unlike the warlord. His optics were a dazzling bright blue, and he was unbelievably kind. Thinking of those times makes his spark hurt, but so does simply being in the moment. Instead, the secondary functions of his processor are pulled to the front, letting his frame act on autopilot once more. Even if he can still tell what’s going on, at least his emotional receptors don’t make him crash and reboot until they aren’t repressed. 

The clawed servo running down his back makes him shiver. The other one caresses over his wing before it grips hard, and the last thing he properly feels is the tip crumpling into crooked sheets of metal as a warble escapes his voicebox. There are alerts on his HUD, reminding him of the dangers that come with turning primary receptors off, reporting the damage on his wing and that one of his modesty panels is being pried off. 

He dismisses all of them, one by one. 

Chapter Text

"It truly is as we feared. Megatron has returned and has taken the lead of the Decepticons once more."

Optimus’ voice rumbles through the Autobot Base, the unspoken authority low between the tones. The mood and morale are at an all time low as well, but all audials are listening, processors running. The strength it takes for Optimus to say those words without a certain affliction doesn’t go unnoticed. His battlemask isn’t on, but his expression is managed well— however, anger bleeds through his facade. It is unusual, surely, but not unexpected. The recent events bleeding together don't exactly paint a nice picture.

For the Autobots, Megatron’s return makes the situation worse— the times when they had to face him directly are a fierce reminder of that. Not just in terms of fighting back against the Decepticons now that they've gotten stronger, but also because with the warlord back in command, the chances of Cliffjumper surviving inside the Nemesis are much lower. Megatron isn’t exactly known for his benevolence and mercy, and the title ‘Warlord’ didn’t stick around for no reason.

Most Autobots that had entered the Nemesis under the conditions of captivity and torture had not come out online. Optimus doesn’t even want to think about the comrades he has lost, even less about Cliffjumper becoming one of them. It makes his already bad mood worse.

"His signal is still online. Chances are, Megatron isn't bothering with Cliffjumper at the moment, busy with settling after his return. We still have a chance. The time frame isn’t huge. All we can hope for is a miracle.”

They didn't get the opportunity to recover Cliffjumper in those brief moments before something had collapsed the mine from above. Thankfully, they had all made it out, but the intention of that action was clear.

Bulkhead grimaces at the thought of a certain seeker, and the missiles he usually has attached to his arm.

"It must have been Starscream. I heard Megatron barking those orders. He doesn’t really speak to anyone like that unless it’s his Second in Command."

It’s common knowledge that whenever Megatron orders Starscream around, his voice box goes even lower and grumbles more than usual. It’s easy to tell when he’s speaking to the seeker.

Starscream is also one of the few Decepticons capable of collapsing a mine of such size, the firepower of the nullrays and missiles he carries are incredible, especially for a mech of his frame type. But, it was surprising that Starscream had been nowhere near the site during the brawl, considering it was a mine he had acquired himself. Every single bot knows how protective the seeker is of what he deems as his own. Megatron had come down personally, which sure, wasn't exactly unlikely, but for the Second in Command to not even appear? The flier didn't even descend from the Nemesis high command wing.

"With Megatron back, we have to prepare for the worst. Energon must be prioritized, right after getting our comrade back. And we will be paying attention to their movements as closely as we can."

They still have hope.

Arcee thinks, briefly, that hope is all they have.

...

"I don't know how you manage to get your wings damaged each and every time, really! I don't think we have enough digits on this ship to count how many times I have fixed them!"

It takes a lot of willpower from Starscream to stop the rattling of the wings attached to his back. Knockout’s touch makes him want to retch, and his entire system is doing flips. Briefly, his vision stretches and thins, flickering once or twice before going back to normal. His wings feel like the are welded to his back, but somehow, they still remain detached. It's a feeling he can't describe, and it makes him worry briefly, but he brushes it off anyway. He barely gets to reply.

"Stop being dramatic, Knockout. Just keep working."

Starscream had expected his punishment. He had gone through it in a mode that shut down most of his primary neurotechnical function to ignore most of it, like he always does, and at some point, after he was let go from the clutches of his master, his memories freshened up. His helm usually didn't hurt this much afterwards, though. With primary functions turned back on, his processor settled on a very specific moment to replay. After taking a few hits and being thrown around, Megatron had done something he had never expected him to do. His own spark had skipped a pulse at the sight.

The warlord had stabbed a shard of the dark Energon right into his own sparkchamber, much like he had done with Starscream. He could see from the outside that the studied effects of the substance applied once more, just a lot more violent with the warlord than with himself or Cliffjumper. The frame, pushing the substance through the fuel lines, had made for a much more intimidating sight than he had imagined. Starscream doesn't like associating the colour purple with bad things. It reminds him too much of Skywarp. He prefers to only keep good memories of his trinemates.

"The tips are fragile, Commander! I can't believe I have to tell you this!"

"You don't, Knockout! Thank you for your brilliant advice, now shut up and do what you're told!"

His frame sags with exhaustion, and he tries his best not to recoil from the medic’s healing. It’s hard for him to stay conscious. Recharge is probably calling.

With a sigh and an exasperated roll of his optics, Knockout continued his work on the crumpled wing of the Second in Command, mumbling something underneath his vents about caring for one's own frame. Knockout's vanity isn't new to him, but it still manages to tick him off.

Starscream is still thinking about the incident, wondering if the dark Energon had caused different side effects for Megatron. The nausea nor the confusion didn't seem particularly evident. However, he did seem to have experienced significant physical improvements. Stronger, faster and definitely... well, crueler, if that is the right word to use. He had experienced it at the hand of his master after all.

"Do you have any other injuries I should tend to?"

Plenty. Ignoring the concerning visual feed, Starscream has complaints in his spinal strut, his hip joints ache, some of his claws are still cracked and dull, his internal abdominal plating is severely dented, a helmache is making itself more and more apparent by the minutes, as well as the torn parts of his mesh calip-...

"None. Are you finished?"

"If that's the case, yes, Commander. You are free to go and come back within the week, since I doubt you will manage to stay free of injuries for that long."

"Silence, Knockout! Nobody comes to the medbay for your unnecessary advice and pointless input!"

"Oh, I'll have you know that plenty of mechs come to me for my-"

Starscream gets up and struts away before the medic manages to finish that complaint, unwilling to listen to it any longer. As if he already isn't in bad enough shape, he is supposed to fuel the helmache by listening to the endless blabbering of that vain fool. He definitely has better things to do. His visual field has spots at his quick movement, but they clear up again. He's probably just underfueled. Nothing he hasn't already been through.

He thinks back to that red mech, no longer tied up in his habsuite, and his processor is back to the mixing of those dark Energon mixtures. The next dosage would be higher, and he would take another good look at the responding systems of the Autobot, in hopes of successfully figuring out more. He knows that despite being free from his restrains now, that that idiot wouldn’t be running around the Nemesis. He warned him before, and he's not dumb enough to ignore those warnings.

As he's walking, he spots Soundwave, visor empty and posture rigid. As usual. The Third in Command cocks his helm to the side, and Starscream doesn't quite know what it means, but he just keeps walking. With their frames closer to each other, Starscream can feel just how tightly the EM field is pulled against his form, letting him know nothing of his emotions.

"What, are you also not impressed with our master's less than sound judgement? Or are you here to just look at me in hopes of me figuring out how to fix it."

Soundwave, expectedly, doesn't reply, his visor simply displaying a simplified picture of an Energon shard with a question mark. Starscream isn't sure how to interpret the question, but he answers vaguely anyway.

"You don't think that the Energon is the cause of your liege's space madness? I advise you to increase your surveillance, Soundwave. Better safe than to regret it later."

Soundwave's visor adjusts for a moment before showing a video feed of Megatron, sitting on the throne with a menacing expression on his face plates. He's seen that particular scene in person before.

[ Stop grovelling, just wait for my command. ]

Of course, Soundwave always obeys Megatron's command before Starscream's. Before he had come back, it had been a refreshing change for the seeker to have his commands followed, but now that he had returned, Starscream was once again always being questioned and denied in his orders.

"I assure you, Soundwave, this is not just in mine, but also in the best interest of our Master."

With that, he steps away, his pedes clacking against the floors of the ship. This time, his destination is the lab, and not the habsuite. The other mech's gaze follows him as he walks, optics behind the visor steadily focused on the retreating form of Starscream. He remembers those wings standing proudly once. It looks off, and he notes the unsteady walk, trembling arms and occasionally buckling struts.

On his visor, the image flickers to a frown.

Inside the lab, Starscream is hunched over a desk with samples of Energon. To the optic of anybody else, it all looks the same, but to him, they all varied so subtly in concentration and colour, and he can actually tell the difference. Two cubes, both filled three fourths, one slightly different in hue. Moments like these are what make Starscream the scientist he used to be.

His digits maneuver the tools around nimbly, and it reminds Starscream of his time back at the Iaconian Science Institute. Still younger, hoping that his findings would change Cybertron for the better. Then, he became the head of the Royal Vosian Engineering Research Facility, and science was out of the window. He focused on machinery, but kept his servos far from war. War had been something he had distanced himself from. Both Thundercracker and Skywarp were disapproving of it, and they didn't want their trine leader playing any part in it that could potentially put him in danger. He stayed working with parts and calculations, keeping it simple. But, attention was brought to him anyway. The primes saw potential in him not soon after. His frame, his flight, his processor and his wit somehow got him to be the First Air Commander of the aerial forces, directly under the command of the Primes. A true honor for any aerial frame, to be the direct highest command of all airforces, holding power just like those blessed by Primus. That’s when the tugs of violence crawled up his digits in ugly, corroded veins, contaminating him. Starscream became a part of war. Starscream became violent. An embodiment of violence.

For some, that would have been the dream. For Starscream, being noticed by the Primes had been the beginning of his downfall. His trine had followed him to the airforce, even through his protests of not wanting to get them involved in things they hated. He still blames himself for it. Perhaps if he had isnisted a bit more... their only reminders wouldn't be mangled parts fused into his own frame for the sake of convenience. Their colors are dull and grey now, not the vibrant shades of blue and lilac they once used to be.

That position had been the factor of landing him with the Decepticons. That position had made him known to the leader of this cause. A cause he is loyal to, no matter the fact, but a cause he is a slave to, far beyond what exists now. His spinal strut aches. It feels like a second pair of wings is trying to burst through. He ignores it.

He banishes the thoughts of the past. They bring memories back, and he isn't fond of it. The sensation of all those reformats still crawl through his wires and plating. Like cybermites that eat through metal, it eats through his circuits and goes straight to his core, gnawing at his spark.

That's what most mechs said after they had gotten a reformatting. You would never feel at home inside your own frame again. Plating that doesn't belong to you will never properly become a part of you. The foreign parts aren't you. Even if the processor forgets, the spark knows. Starscream knows that Skywarp and Thundercracker will always be a part of him, no matter what.

Plates on his frame begin going numb, as if detached from the rest of his body. He ignores that too, he's used to it by now, and thins out the concentration of the Dark Energon instead. The scent is a bit softer now, although barely noticeable. Higher than the previous dosage he had given Cliffjumper, only barely making a difference, but enough to hopefully improve his response to it.

His optics drift over to one of the other cubes, half filled. That small bit of Energon left is his own ration. A bit pitiful, but it will have to suffice. Starscream isn't unfamiliar with thinning out his supplies. He can stretch them for longer, even. He just needs to develop that Antibody, and then everything will go back to normal.

Starscream's wings are still, sagging slightly behind him. It wears on the wing-joints, putting pressure on them, but he doesn't mind it. The sensation of the appendages blurs in and out of his brain module. He doesn't quite remember if these wings are his own. It doesn't matter.

The cube is finished anyway.

Every clatter of noise is echoed back towards him as he makes his way to test out the cube. Cliffjumper should be awake. He's memorised the usual recharging habits of the mech by this point. Any mech walking past him doesn't notice the difference between a normal cube and the cube in his grip. To them, it looks like any other ration.

When he walks by Shockwave's lab, the singular red optic falls on him immediately, and it follows his movement. But even to Shockwave, that cube is normal. Starscream doesn't doubt his own ability.

His struts keep moving, and he passes the wide open doors of the lab, continuing on to the other wing of the Nemesis. Soundwave has been logging this specific movement, he knows that. But, they are noted down as frequent visits to his habsuite, so it doesn't mean much either way.

He passes the medbay, and also the hallway leading to the throne room. For a bit, Starscream thinks that he's doing well, without his processor scrambling at the sight of these places. Fear doesn’t grip at him like usual. Suspicion should have started to prickle under his plating at this point, but it didn't.

Before he reaches the habsuite, Starscream stops. Out of the corner of his optics, he catches movement, and he turns around to investigate. His brain module stalls. What is that? Wait, no, where did it go-?

Everything is distorting, the walls are inching closer, and his optics are spinning in his helm. The cube in his hand becomes larger, then smaller, and he can't feel his grip on it, and doesn't know if his servos are still attached to his frame. His mandible is slack, but his denta are grinding together, and Starscream realizes something before it disappears and turns into mist, evaporating from his helm. The flooring begins to swallow him up by the pedes, before spitting him back out and starting all over again. He doesn't manage to get another proper line of coding through or out of his processor before Energon splatters to the ground, and Starscream not soon after.

Inside Shockwave's laboratory, an alert on his hud catches his attention. A reading from the chips they had placed inside the frames of the entire high command.

 [ STAR: SIC, AC - losing neurotechnological function ]

He doesn't realize he's out of the laboratory until he hears his own thundering steps boom across the hallways in order to reach that side of the Nemesis faster. Letting Starscream offline is simply-... illogical. He cannot let the Second in Command of the Decepticons power down, not now.

The med bay is left empty as Knockout dashes, the hologram on his arm displaying rapidly declining vitals, signal flicking on and off. Starscream had been in the medbay barely even a day ago, just what had he missed? For once, he thinks his polish doesn't matter as he bumps into and through vehicons. His processor is racing through all kinds of situations and how to prevent them before he realizes that most of them inevitably end in one way. He is already comming Breakdown as fast as he can to get the medbay prepared. His medical experience isn't enough for this, he knows that, but he has no other option.

Soundwave's mask glitches, and the surveillance feed of the camera in that hallway turns off at the flick of a button. The doors to that hallway are shut behind Knockout and Shockwave, and no vehicon gets in, or out. The vents lock, now cycling air separately inside of the wing, effectively stopping anything that wants to enter or exit.

The High Command Wing is under quarantine. Second in Command of the Decepticons, Starscream, is shutting down.